His round face creased, he set both coffees on the desk and dropped into his chair on the exhale. Captain Edden was not tall, and the first hints of a soft widening of his waist added to his comfortable, late-fifties look. His military background showed in his quick mannerisms and slow decisions, only accentuated by the black hair cropped close to his skull. Lacing his stubby fingers across his middle, he stared at me in annoyance. His mustache was showing more gray than it had last time, and I couldn’t help but cringe at the accusing look in his brown eyes.
Jenks clattered his wings as if in apology, and the captain glanced at him as if he ought to have known better before turning his disapproving attention back to me. “Would you be more comfortable running my department from my chair, Rachel?” he said, and I shifted forward to take a coffee just to have something between him and me. “What did you think you were doing, arresting Kalamack at his own wedding?” he added, and I sat down, the focus between my feet.
As if this were good news, Jenks brightened, flying up to land closer to the FIB captain to look satisfied and relieved. I thought it totally unfair that though Jenks and I were partners, I’d be the only one to suffer for any trouble we got into. Pixies were never held accountable for their actions. But then they usually didn’t involve themselves this deep in “big people” affairs.
“If I arrested him anywhere else, he would have buried me,” I said, singeing my finger and spilling some coffee when I removed the lid. Disgusted with myself, I sopped up the rivulet with my worn shoulder bag before it could drip to my dress. Jeez, I felt like one of those wackos haunting Fountain Square, with my ratty bag, my wrapped gift holding the focus, and wearing a gown that cost more than a semester of tuition.
“You being dead would make my life easier.” Edden’s face was tight when he leaned to get his coffee. “Listen to that!” he exclaimed, gesturing at the unseen lobby. “My people don’t know how to handle this. That’s why the I.S. exists! And you bring them all here? To me?”
“I thought you knew what I was doing,” I said. “Glenn—”
My words cut off when Edden lifted a hand. His anger slid away, replaced with a rueful pride for his adopted son. “No,” he muttered, his eyes dropping to the desk. “He slipped the paperwork in with the requisitions for the company picnic. You’re invited, by the way.”
“Thanks,” I said, wondering if I’d live that long. Depressed, I took a sip of coffee, glad the FIB had their priorities in order and bought the good stuff.
Edden frowned, his pride at Glenn’s bucking the system to further justice now fading back to anger. “Kalamack left the species box blank on his statement,” he said. “You know what that means?” I took a breath to answer, but he had rushed ahead with, “It means he’s not saying if he’s Inderland or human and is accepting FIB jurisdiction. I have to deal with this. Me. And you want me to pay you for dumping this crap on me?”
My jaw clenched. “He broke the law,” I said hotly.
The unusually enlightened human sighed, his entire body moving. “Yes, he did.”
For a moment there was silence. Then Edden took the lid off his coffee. “Piscary is in my lobby,” he said tightly. “He says you want to talk to him. How am I supposed to keep you alive through your testimony when Piscary comes to my department to kill you?”
I glanced at Jenks, who was starting to shed a faint trail of glittering dust in agitation. “Piscary didn’t come here to kill me,” I said, hiding my jitters behind a sip of coffee. “I asked him here. I want to arrange some protection from him for me and Kisten.”
Edden went markedly still as I guiltily swallowed more coffee and set the cup down. The acidic drink hit my stomach, where it sat to make me feel ill. Piscary was a sick wacko—and the only one who could protect me and rescind Kisten’s blood gift.
“You’re buying protection from Piscary?” Edden shook his head, his few wrinkles deepening. “He wants you dead. You put him in jail. He’s not going to forget that just because he’s out. And the word is he made a blood gift out of your boyfriend.” His gaze fell from mine in shame. “Rachel, I’m sorry. I can’t do anything about that.”
A hot feeling of betrayal rose through me, of innocence lost. I knew that nothing could stop Piscary from getting away with treating Kisten like a box of Godiva, but damn it, these were the people who were supposed to keep us safe from the big-bad-uglies. I hated this, but what I hated more was that I had to work in such a depraved system to stay alive. Like I have much choice?